One of the Guys
by uniwonder
Summary: IDW: Have you ever felt like that one guy who tags along as the third-wheel and ends up being the main event? Rung has. Non-sticky.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor am I making any profit by writing this._

_Warning: Tactile stimulation; non-sticky  
_

* * *

This was unacceptable; he shouldn't be here. "Oh, but we insist," they said. It was quite the dangerous situation, like a bad joke: four Wreckers walk into a bar—Primus, he was screwed. Rung was squished in between Perceptor and Kup, the two seemingly oblivious to the usual tavern happenings. He clearly recalled the last time he ventured to the local 'water hole.' Oddly enough, the psychologist felt somewhat safe being surrounded by the larger mechs.

"So, is there any particular reason as to why we are here?" he inquired, optics settling on the half-empty container of energon; "I mean, other than the obvious." Kup glanced down at the smaller 'bot, offering a grin around his cy-gar. "Just relax and enjoy yourself." He registered movement from the corner of his optic and gaped as Perceptor slid a rather large container of high-grade into reach.

"There you go," he said, "Drink up."

"Um, thank you." Rung pulled the cylindrical glass towards him, bringing the edge to his lips. He wasn't much of a drinker—the energon tasted bitter against his glossa, and he absently wondered how anyone could consume such adulterated fuel. He forced the liquid down, catching the cerulean optics of the two flanking him. "It's g-good," he lied, focusing on yet another forced sip.

Springer smirked, catching Rung's attention. "You know what else is good?" He gestured to one of the cyber-wenches making her way through the crowd. "Ever been with a femme, Doctor?" inquired Roadbuster. _No, I'm afraid I haven't. _"Of course, I have!" The Wreckers could tell the little bot was lying through his teeth—oh, how it amused them. Rung glanced to the scientist. "Perceptor, if you would be so kind as to allow me to leave the booth?"

"… No."

The femme came to stand by their table, optics flitting from one mech to the other. He had to admit the curves and subtle color tones made her quite attractive. She then slid in between Perceptor and Rung, her dainty hand gliding across the latter's chest. The Wreckers watched the multitude of expressions flash across his face. Even Perceptor thought it was _very_ entertaining.

"Please, M'am…"

She drew little circles upon his armor. "You're not scared of _me_, are you? Here, drink some more. You'll feel better." The femme lifted the container to his lips, her fingers tenderly stroking the smooth throat cables as if to aid the liquid down to his tank. He soon felt her touch trail the transformation seams along his torso, eliciting a tiny squeak from his vocalizer.

Roadbuster chuckled. "How is it, Rung? Just wait until she gets those little wires at the hip." He glanced to Perceptor, and the latter gave a nod in understanding. The sniper sat his high-grade onto the table and reached over to trail his hand along the femme's smooth thigh, causing her to jump. Perceptor said nothing as deft fingers seeped beneath her chest armor to tweak the sensitive wiring. The cyber-wench arched her back into the scientist, her own touch lingering over Rung's hip.

"Damn, Doctor… You got it made." If Rung could blush, he would be five shades of red, by now. "I bet she sings like a diode-dove!"

The femme smiled down at the psychologist as Perceptor's skilled hands worked their magic across her chassis. Rung began to squirm, feeling his circuits spark with pleasure as her fingers grazed the tubing along his inner thighs. "Touch her, Rung," said Perceptor, "She won't bite."

"Unless you want me to…"

The sniper nipped at the exposed neck cabling, coaxing a small moan from the cyber-wench. She glanced over her shoulder. "Easy, Sharpshooter. Let's not frighten your little friend, here." The other Wreckers just watched in awe. Rung was participating in, not only his first female encounter, but his first threesome! The smaller mech gulped, hands reaching up to caress the smooth metal along her chest, accidentally brushing Perceptor's hand in the process.

Kup lounged against the seat, chewing on the cy-gar as he watched with intense interest. Springer and Roadbuster ordered more drinks as they, too, absorbed the spectacle before them. The femme parted her chest armor, revealing the chamber of which held her beating spark. The component was littered with scars, most likely from past sessions with other patrons.

Rung almost felt sorry for her.

But, the thought fled his processor as quickly as it came, as Perceptor's dark hand ventured into the open cavity to stroke the exposed port. The sniper then led Rung's hand to that very spot.

"This is where your jack goes," he said, smirking in his direction. The femme traced the seams of Rung's chest armor, coaxing it to open. "Look at her, she's desperate," Springer added. "Give it to her, Rung."

"N-No, I can't…"

Perceptor grunted in disapproval and withdrew his own jack. "Can't we just—not do this?" The sniper disregarded Rung's concern and established the connection; the femme's moan was lost in the noise. She straddled the psychologist's lap, bearing her spark chamber. "Please…" She stroked his helm with trembling hands as the larger mech tinkered with the wires along her midsection.

"Go ahead, Rung… Do it."

His 'eyebrows' furrowed, finally giving into temptation. He reached up to caress the exposed circuitry, the bulging chamber; fingers sliding around the intimate joining of the two Cybertronians, and stroking the cable that led back to Perceptor's chest. The sniper purred, watching intently as Rung sent the femme into a quivering mess. He sent extra waves of energy through their connection, letting the sparks dance upon the psychologist's lips as he paid special attention to her full port.

The others never expected the two geekiest Autobots would put on the hottest show. The cyber-wench between them was absolutely thrilled to have them, however. She pulled the smaller mech to her bosom as a combination between his glossa and Perceptor's energy feed sent her into one hell of an overload.

Rung struggled, pulling away from the satisfied femme. The two stared at one another before she was removed from his lap. Perceptor wanted his overload, apparently.

The smaller bot was relieved.  
He looked at the other Wreckers and smiled nervously as he reached for his high-grade.

"How was that for an initiation?"


End file.
